Jimmy’s face was so white that Angel thought he would faint.
“The hounds!” he cried. “Angel, we must——”
“You must sit down,” said Angel, “or you’ll be having a fit.” He examined the letter again. “It’s beautifully done,” he said. “Scrawled on a torn draper’s bill in pencil, it might very easily be her writing.”
He put the missive carefully in a drawer of his desk, and locked it.
“Unfortunately for the success of that scheme, Mr. Spedding, I have four men watching Miss Kent’s house day and night, and being in telephonic communication, I happen to know that that young lady has not left her house all day.”
He looked at Jimmy, white and shaking.
“Buck up, Jimmy!” he said kindly. “Your bang on the head has upset you more than you think.”
“But the letter?” asked Jimmy.
“A little fake,” said Angel airily, “Mr. Spedding’s little ballon d’essai, so foolishly simple that I think Spedding must be losing his nerve and balance. I’d like to bet that this house is being watched to see the effect of the note.” (Angel would have won his bet.) “Now the only question is, what little program have they arranged for me this evening?”
Jimmy was thoughtful.